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You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

• Brief biography (upbringing, etc.): While living at home, I suffered physical and mental abuse from my father, neglect from my mother (a continuation of the abuse from my maternal grandparents), violence from my older sister, and had to care for my younger sisters. On the other hand, from a young age, I enjoyed reading academic books, and I had a strong desire to receive higher education and contribute to society by making the most of the educational environment available to me, so I spent all my free time studying... However, at the age of 17, I reached my limit, and my physical and mental health deteriorated, resulting in eight chronic illnesses (taking 10 different medications), and I spent two years resting. (I also dropped out of high school ) Afterwards, because my funds were limited (I earned them myself), I took the entrance exam for a university that I could take while living in Prefecture Name , and I enrolled in University . Along with enrolling in university, Leaving my hometown , and while receiving treatment for my chronic illnesses, I energetically engaged in volunteer work and activities with NPO organizations (NPO organizations for people with Down syndrome).

This is another incident from my survivor story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER. I am working up to the police incident. Please read my story for context. This one brought back pain in writing it. Sophomore year of my philosophy major in college. I had recently gone on a trip to Portugal with nice older man who basically invited me to Portugal with the understanding that I would be his lover for a free trip. He had been one of my customers at the restaurant and I took him up on his proposition for the fun of it and had a great time. That was my spring break. This was a few year period when I was very promiscuous after being abused by my brother for years at home and repressed in a Catholic high school as parental punishment for starting a sexual relationship with a boy my age. When a girl in my logic course who was pre-law invited me to a fraternity party I thought it would be nice to hang with people my own age. Fraternities and sororities were not my cup of tea and still are not. After doing a keg stand to impress strangers I was looking for the upstairs bathroom because the line for the downstairs one was long. That one had a few girls waiting and a guy who had held one of my legs for the keg stand started flirting with me and offered to take me to a secret bathroom. The bathroom was legit but then he beckoned me into a bedroom across from it where two other frat brothers were. I was apprehensive but with the other guys there I was a little more at ease that he wasn’t just trying to take me to bed. I was open to finding a hot guy, to be honest, but he was NOT it. Neither were the other two. I sat chatting with them and drinking tiny shots of cinnamon whiskey and getting more nervous when somebody tried to get in the door to the room but it was locked. My guy yelled at them to go away. Then I tried to get up and leave but was pulled back to my seat the bed. I am small so I am easily overpowered. “You can’t leave yet. We’re just getting to know you.” One rapist said. “No teases allowed here.” “What do I have to do to get back out to my friend?” I asked something like that but used her name. They looked at each other with nasty smirks and I regretted the question. What one of them came up was a blowjob contest in which I have twenty seconds to make each of them cum but I had to go in circle until one did and then he was eliminated and I had to do all three. So they stood on three sides of the bed with me in the middle and took out their penises. One had a stop watch and without hesitation I started sucking the one nearest me. I wanted to get out of there and was physically afraid of them. This was away to avoid any violence and not even give them the satisfaction of thinking they forced me to do anything. So I went round and round getting very tired. 20 seconds was too short and they had pulled off all my clothes. I stopped and asked the one who made up the game for 60 seconds. Suddenly I was pulled violently back by my legs from the one behind me he held my legs apart as he quickly started banging me. I did not even see his face until later. The one who I had been talking to got up on the bed and started doing it to my mouth. I don’t me he put it in my mouth. He grabbed my head with both hands and forced it in and was banging my face as hard as the guy behind me was doing it. I had to stay up on my elbows arched to prevent him from ripping my hair up to keep me at his level. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. It had always been one partner at a time. They were mean and I tried so hard to keep up. After that craziness was over and both of them satisfied themselves in me, the original guy pulled me up onto the bed and said something like, “Only one hole left for me.” I was not used to anal sex then. I offered to go wash up if he would please not do anal with me. He laughed and shook his head. So, laying on my back with my legs spread, he squirted some aloe vera gel from the bedside table down there and watched me face to face as he worked his penis in one thrust at a time. He saw the pain on my face that I could not hide. I had to kiss him while her hurt me. Even when he got going fast it took him a while. One of them was watching us, smiling from the side and the other was playing with his phone and I think taking pictures. Phones did not do videos yet. The smiling one once asked, “Dude, is it really in her ass?” After he was finished with me he thanked me and left. Said he had responsibilities. The one with the phone left too. I tried to leave. “Not so fast.” The other one said pushing me back down. I told him I had done everything they wanted and more and asked to please leave. He told me I was the hottest chick he had ever F-’d and he wanted round 2. I just wanted to get out of there. One more obstacle. I worked my mouth on him for a while to get him even half rubbery again and worked it inside. That failed and I had to do it again. Finally I used every trick I could including faking orgasms, having a real orgasm, and talking dirty to him to get him to release inside me. I was so shaky and exhausted after being their whore for so long it was hard to get my clothes on. I was in fear he would stop me, and he did. I told him I just wanted to got pee and clean up and asked him if I could sleep in his bed with him—just a trick. I worked. I thanked him, nonchalantly closed the door behind me and hurried down the stairs without drawing too much attention. I kept a smile on my face as I made it out the front door and off the porch. I kept of the act for a block before I just started running as far away as I could. I was actually terrified someone might be after me until I was out of the neighborhood far from campus and to a gas station. I called a taxi and went home. My roomate was sleeping in her room and I just sat in the shower. In my story I used this as an example of how I avoided being raped by just going with it when I was in a rape situation. But this felt like rape. I went back to partying and using alcohol and marijuana to dampen the impact and feel artificially warm and fuzzy. And casual sex with hot men. But this was rape. I was gang raped. Maybe better for me than if I had tried to fight them and lost but it still sucks and leaves me with hurt and guilt and fear.

I was first abused by my stepfather in my early 20s, he took the opportunity while my Mom, sister and niece were away in theme park and molested me. I was taken aback, and had no idea what to do or how to process it. I was scared to tell my Mom and anybody else for fear I wouldn't be believed. I eventually admitted it to my Mom, and went to stay with friends, as I didn't want to be around him at all, and did not feel safe. I was afraid it would go further and that he would rape me. I was very clear with my Mom, I told her that I would not return to the house if he was there, she let him back, so I moved to stay with another relative and subsequently moved out altogether, I had very little contact and refused to return home while he was still there. My Mom found me a counsellor to help me talk about what had happened. I went to her for a number of years. I had issues with family members and friends believing me when I disclosed what happened to me, they insinuated that as it was only assault, it was not that serious. I found this very difficult to take, and it probably made me more reticent about talking about what had happened. About period of time later, the divorce referendum was successfully enacted and my Mom and stepfather were going to marry. My counsellor told me that if I didn't attend that day, I would never forgive myself. I attended, but felt uncomfortable and upset all day long. A number of years later I returned home as I needed somewhere to be as I changed jobs etc. I wasn't fully comfortable with this decision, however I thought I would be okay as my Mom was there too along with my stepfather and my sisters. My Mom got sick shortly after that, she was sick for period of time, and passed away in year. After that, I was living in the house with my stepfather alone. Over a period of time, he deliberately isolated me from my sisters and other family members. So much so, that I had very little support available to me. And then the molesting/assaults started up again, I really didn't know what to do or how to react. It got gradually worse, and for a period of period of time or longer, I was being assaulted/raped on a weekly and sometimes more regular basis. Towards the end of this period he was even talking about marrying me, which was very creepy and inappropriate. This was an excruciating and very difficult time, as I had zero support, and nobody to reach out to or help. Due to health reasons, my stepfather had to move and live with relations in another part of the country, and this finally ended this period of physical and emotional abuse. However I had suppressed and blocked it for so long, that I found it difficult to face or come to terms with. Now period of time later, I am finally seeking help to give me healing and help me come to terms with all that has happened to me. I am grateful that I am at last able to admit how bad things were, and also that I can try and rebuild my own life after years of sidelining myself to look after others. I hope my story will help others in similar situations reach out and seek help and support in the future, even though I cannot take legal action against my abuser, I still want to be able to heal and try and come to terms with all I endured.

There have been many flaws that have always been exposed throughout the legal system for a long time. Like child protection services, there are good ones out there who do help children. But there have been so many who go into really bad situations and happen to leave the children there no matter how many red-flagged calls they may receive or even see themselves. Instead, they go into other homes or places where they can't find any of those red flags and then start doing the jobs they were supposed to do the first time. One of these experiences happened when a few different calls were made about a family who lived in an old pink house. Even one of the kids themselves had borrowed a friend's phone for the call, hoping they would finally be placed somewhere else or at least be able to feel safe at home. The reason for this is that all of the children were being abused by their father and the mother, who was their thought it was better to stay than leave because she was afraid of leaving. However, the mother sometimes didn't really protect the children much either; instead would turn them over to their father to save herself from him. (The father would physically and verbally do all different types of abuse to all the kids, from throwing things, hitting them, saying weird comments to them. Making them fight against each other and many other things.) On top of this, the pink house had holes all over the wall and ceiling, and walls in the bedrooms that were sinking in and pipes that were broken and floors that were falling in, and would refuse to fix them instead blamed the kids for the house and how it looked regardless how hard they would try to please him. Nothing would work and after all the phone calls the children had have many threats by there father of what would happen if they said anything to child protection services. All of this really messed with their mental health. So when child protection services did come all they did was was walk through the house and the kids couldn't speak because her father sat there and was watching everything. Instead of pulling the kids to the side and asking them questions, they directly addressed the father, ask the kids questions right in front of him dismissed everything. After just taking in account what the father was saying and of course he denied all the accusations. Even with all physical environmental hazards they just left. They didn't even try to question the children on the side instead put them at risk by asking them in front of their abuser who they were afraid of being physically hurt by after being threatened into not talking. Children's services only was wiling to put them at risk and wanting to close the case quickly. ( this is my first time posting and there is so much more to this but was way to much to put into this post. Just wanted to finally be able to share and be open to see if anyone else might relate to this experience. Might share more details but not so sure. I just want to finally be more open about this experience I had in my life.) This is a brief over view of what happened but I really hate that we never got helped growing up but now he just walks free) I did have more struggles as a teen falling to an abusive relationship and later on another one but lucky a lot of things have gotten better. I do want to tell more but I am now starting to processes everything and wish I could have had a chance to be a kid.

The hardest thing to come to terms with is that you are in an abusive relationship. It is humbling and embarrassing, but is the first step to moving forward in the healing journey. I never thought he was my abuser, I just thought he was a huge "a**hole" with anger problems. I did not (still do not) understand how the same person who will cuddle you, tell you "I got you baby, dont worry about it," the same person who will love on your animals, can be vulnerable (not emotionally of course) with you, and tell you he loves you. Can be the same person who gets so angry and defensive, that he calls you every name in the book. The same person can tell you he will "hit you if you don't shut the f**k up." That same person will look at you when you are crying so hard your eyes are swollen shut, and still tell you how ungrateful and unappreciative you are - even if you do everything for them. That person who holds finances over your head, to tell you he will handle it, then throw it in your face because you are a "financial burden." To scream at you, to say how he will "always be better than you and above you." That person will never change. I tried to help him, and change him. I thought after my father passed, he just did not understand grief. He did not understand why 6 months later, I would fall out on the kitchen floor and cry because of the kitchen knives my father got me were washed in the dishwasher. He did not understand why my life changed, or my perspective on the world was altered. He blamed me for my problems, and told me I was a burden to him and his life. All because of my father's passing. I left him, eventually. I had no more strength left, but had no choice but to leave. I wanted to heal, and grieve properly. If I had to do it alone, I would. I did. I believed after 6 months of me leaving, he changed right? He still showed signs, but I was convinced that he would do better. So, I decided to move states, hours away from the family I had left. Said yes when he asked me to marry him (in public). Moved into a house with my animals (leasing) and try to start over. Well, now I am here. It did not last long, that glamour disappeared the first night we had a disagreement. Nothing ever changed, in fact, it got worse. The threats to hit me, the name calling, the disrespect, the abuse. Never physical, but verbally, emotionally, and financially, yes. The embarrassing part is that I wish I stayed away the first time. I wish I would have never moved in with him the first time, I wish I left after only being together for a few months- and he yelled at me- for 30 minutes- because I was "so irresponsible" for leaving my keys in my car. I let myself fall more and more in love with the "good version" of him. The version where he was kind to me, and did love me. I held on to hope, but the hope dies when you realize you deserve real love. I would rather be alone, than stay with my abuser for 10 more years, regretting I didn't leave sooner. Regretting that I didn't leave before he laid his hands on me. I wish I could leave today, but financial wise I cannot. My lease needs bought out. Faking it until I make it. Apathy to avoid arguments. He senses something is different, I can see it in his eyes. I refuse to bring up the elephant in the room-- i no longer care to. Getting by until I can leave. Plans are still in place for the next few months... who knows what will pan out. Either way, I am leaving my abuser. Period.

I struggled to accept I had been sexually harassed. I was out, but in a group of friends. There were witnesses. I told myself it "wasn't that bad". But, she touched me without my consent numerous times. When called out about it, she pretended like it was innocent. She was a total stranger. I had no idea who she was. She claimed she was too old and I was too young to be taking this seriously. I asked the venue for CCTV, but they wouldn't share it unless i went to the gardaí. What happened wasn't criminal but it wasn't right. I feel shame for not standing up for myself more and making myself smaller in the moment. I am angry that I am angry that others didn't speak when I couldn't. It isn't their fault. It was hers. I am not the typical victim; whatever that means. She wasn't the typical perpetrator; whatever that means.

what i have learned from this ordeal is that someone who wants to hurt you is intimidated by your light. they’re afraid that if you know how beautiful you are, you will leave them so they try to bring you down. but they can only dim your light for a time, they can’t take it away from you. our bodies are resilient and they are made to heal. survivor

Leaving my ex was a decision shaped by years of isolation and physical abuse, but the breaking point was when he tried to control my livelihood. He wanted me to quit my job, and when I refused, he didn’t care. Another time, he looked me in the eyes and said, “You’re not leaving this apartment alive,” before laughing. That was the moment I realized—why was I letting this man decide what I did with my life? Why was I letting him determine whether I got to be alive at all? The day I finally left, I called my mom and told her I wanted out. When my ex threatened to throw all my belongings away, I called the police. They gave me five minutes to gather what I could. I grabbed whatever I could carry and walked away. But leaving wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning. He stalked and harassed me relentlessly. Social media messages. Presents left on my car. Showing up at my parents' house. Nonstop calls. I eventually had to change my phone number. Even then, it took me a while to file for a Protection Order because, somehow, I still felt bad for him. Then, after months of no contact, I ran into him at the gym. He made a threatening remark, so I reported it, and he was banned. That set him off. As I left the gym, he tried to run me off the road. I managed to pull into a parking lot where bystanders gathered around me while he screamed. The police arrived and told me I should file for an Emergency Protection Order immediately—something I had put off, thinking I had to wait for regular business hours. I got the order and thought that would be the end of it. But exactly one day after it expired, he showed up again—and this time, he wouldn’t let me leave where I was parked. Panic took over as I desperately tried to get someone’s attention to call the police. Finally, I managed to get to safety, and someone had already made the call. As I started driving home, I realized he was following me again. Instead of going home, I turned back and told the police. They offered to follow me, and as I drove off, I spotted him on the other side of the road. I motioned to the officer, who immediately pulled him over. A few minutes later, the officer called me and said I needed to get another order against him, warning that he was "mentally unwell." He hoped that pulling him over had given me enough time to get home safely. This time, I had to file for a Peace Order, which only lasted six months. He even tried to appeal it—but in the end, it was granted. Looking back, I learned that the most dangerous time for a survivor isn’t during the relationship—it’s when they try to leave. Those months after I walked away were far more terrifying than any moment I spent with him. But in the end, I made it out. And that’s what matters.

Part 2. I'm starting with the second because I can't go over the first yet because the first was reported. The first part started at the beginning of middle school and I was groomed by one of my male teachers from the very first week of middle school. It lasted all of middle school and led to more though can't go into it right now. I will hopefully later on be able to share that if I'm comfortable enough too. Anyways, part 2. It was my senior year of highschool and I went to this male teachers class. I had a weird feeling about him during open house but didn't think anything of it. The first week of school, he goes around asking what we want our nicknames to be if any. I said "just (my name)". He looks at me and says "ok, just (my name)" and smiles and looks at me and back down at his paper. I didn't understand and thought he was funny. He didn't do it to anyone else. Then, a few days later, we're having a fire drill and he looks at me from his desk in the back and tells me "We're going to have a fire drill. We'll just go out and stand and talk for a little." and shakes his head in the yes motion. I shake my head to match his. Another day, I'm walking in the hallway near his classroom and it's just me and him. I'm coming up like 3 stairs and he comes out of the hallway where his room is and we stare at each other. He goes into the middle of the bathrooms and turns the water fountain on, not even two seconds and turns around and stands there. He doesn't even have a water bottle with him, he has nothing in his hands. I stop and wait for him to come out and he doesn't. I continue to slowly walk because I don't want to be late to his class and as I go by him, he follows me with his eyes. Once I'm past him, he comes out between the bathrooms and follows me a short distance and then goes into a dark room with no one ever going in there and I turn and go to his room. I sit down and look at the clock and he doesn't come back for 5 minutes. I put my head down when he starts teaching and cry because I realize what he is but was what I had just seen really match the man who was teaching me? I couldn't trust myself. Throughout class he would look at me and shake his head while teaching us, always in the yes motion. I thought he was nice. During the beginning, he told me he wouldn't let me fail/fall. I was crying because I didn't want to fail his class. I wanted to try my best. He helped me several days throughout the year with the material and I appreciated it. There was a day that I was alone in his room with him before class started because I walked early to his class sometimes for a reason (I won't go into it). I was sitting against the wall like always and he got out a banana and he peeled it. He was back beside his desk and there was a wall he stood beside so if you looked in from any angle from the hallway, you wouldn't see him. He peels the banana back and looks at me and then the floor and then me again. He stares at me and takes one large bite into half the whole banana. I see this and so I turn and look at him and he stops chewing while staring at me. I then ask if I can finish a test because he would allow us to go into the hallway and he'd give us a clipboard and we could do it. He says "what?". So, I asked again and he said "no, I don't want you to miss this class.". Then, when class starts a girl a few rows up from me asks him and he says "yes" and hands her a clipboard and she goes out into the hallway. Again, I'm like 'did he tell me I couldn't but she can?" Then it went further and so I was alone after class with him finishing a test one day. He had a shirt and tie( and yes, he had everything else on)on which was unlike him and while I was doing the test there was a closet a few rows behind me. He goes and takes his shirt and tie off while I'm alone with him and I'm so scared he doesn't have a shirt on underneath and he has a small mirror on the side so I think he could watch me while he did it. He had a shirt underneath but not the point. Then he leaves the room. When he comes back in I look at him because I realized he wasn't wearing what he was earlier and I look at him. He looks at me and starts laughing at me. Then, the next day I'm in another class and a girl in that class told a friend out loud that my male teacher doesn't like changing in front of the students so he went next door to change. Again, I was like "that's not true! He did it when I was alone with him!" but couldn't trust what I had been through to tell anyone so I unfortunately let it go and held everything in.Then it goes further. I'm alone with him because I asked him if I could stay after school because I needed help with the material. He says yes and he only has 30 minutes. So it's just me and him again. I'm in my seat at the wall and he goes over what I'm struggling with. Then he asks if I need help with anything else, again saying he only has 30 minutes. I say "no, thank you though" and get up and start to walk to the door. He runs from the front of the classroom to the back, grabs his phone off his desk, and walks right up behind me and walks right behind me to the door. Once we get to the door, he stops and I feel his release and I keep walking. He watched me walk down the hallway and I felt ashamed and was trying to come up with an excuse to go back into his classroom. I wanted to go back to his class room. After I left school, I went out to eat with some family and all I thought about was "why didn't I go back into his room? What an idiot!". I honestly thought when he was behind me that we was going to rape me but he didn't, he let me go in that sense. Then there was prom and he told me one day before it during class, everyone's there and he looks at me and says "I'm not going to be at prom." He explains what he's doing with his family. Again, I shake my head in the yes motion like "Why do I need to know this?" He wasn't telling anyone, just me. Then we're practicing for graduation and walking through all the halls so the teachers can say congratulations and we get to my male teachers hallway and I'm on his side(we walked in 2 people a row and I was on his side). I start internally panicking and eventually I look up and he's smiling brightly and says "Congratulations" and I smile and say "thank you". When we get back to the room where we're practicing, the girl next to me who I didn't know at all told me there was a teacher who kept saying my name. I asked her who and she said she didn't know. I asked if it was my male teacher and she said yeah. I said something along the lines of "I'm not surprised.".Then we're going on a senior trip. He asks who all is going and I don't put my hand up because I'm talking to a friend. He finds out once we get there. I'm with my then boyfriend and he has the same class as the male teacher and wants to go say hi so we walk over and I say "I don't know if that's a good idea." The whole time being on edge and scared but not knowing why. Once we get over there I try to find an open bench and there are none! I stand uncomfortably in front of my male teacher I had all year as he's sitting on a bench next to another teacher who he worked with sometimes. They taught together sometimes. My boyfriend talks to them and I'm silent. My boyfriend wants my male teacher to sign something and so my male teacher digs in his bookbag and he gets out a pen and stares at me and says "I thought I couldn't find it." and holds the pen up a little and continues to stare at me. He also saw what I wrote for my boyfriend and looked between my then boyfriend and myself. It wasn't sexual but I didn't want him reading that and know I had a boyfriend. He didn't know until then. I don't understand what that was supposed to mean. Then the teacher beside him on the bench looks over between me and my male teacher and tells us we should go get in line because there were a lot of people. Then it's time to leave hours later and I'm standing with my then boyfriend. He points over to where my male teacher is and he's staring at me from way far in the distance. He notices that I notice and acts like he's on a phone call and walks away. I will never know if he actually had a call or not. Then somehow we're waiting for everyone in our group to come back so we can get on the buses. The male teacher is somehow across from me, my then boyfriend left to go see other students he knows, and my male teacher waves at me and is smiling brightly and says "hi". Then he says while rubbing his one arm with his other hand, "you look like your arms got some sun." very quietly so only I know because there are so many people around us but no one notices. I feel uncomfortable though try to tell him my sunscreen wasn't working and he looks at the ground with a straight face and nods his head. I get really uncomfortable so I turn and walk into a wall and turn around. He's staring at me from a distance! I stare back at him as I'm wearing a dress and holding a small bag and we stand like that for I don't know how long. We don't move. Some people eventually get in our way so I side step to my right and then he side steps to his left and we continue to stare at each other. I didn't want that time to end, I wanted to stay there forever. But at some point I started to dissociate because my body started floating into the sky as the sun was overhead us. At some point we stop and it's time to walk to the buses. A teacher I had a previous year tells me to not leave the group and asks if I'm ok to which I say "I'm ok, how about you?" because I didn't trust anyone enough to tell them what was going on. I couldn't process it or put it into words. I didn't know what it was. Then he says he has to use the restroom and to not leave the group. So I walk to the front of the group where one of the teachers who were on my bus ,who I didn't know, was talking to my male teacher! So I keep walking behind them and my male teacher is talking to another female student but she's trying to talk to him and he keeps his head down and just shakes his head... Like what he did to me earlier! But I don't think about this until I'm in therapy years later. Then he notices me and he falls back and puts his head down at the ground and turns his head to the left and stares into my eyes as we're walking. There's people behind us but no one notices anything somehow. I look over to my left and smile out of being uncomfortable and he goes back up next to the teacher on my bus. Then we get on the bus and the male teachers bus is next to my bus. I'm sitting at the window and I see my male teacher get on his bus and he sits at the window seat opposite of mine so we're next to each other even though on different buses. We stare at each other and then he gets his phone out and puts his head down. On the way back I try to tell my then boyfriend why I was scared during the trip but I can't describe or tell him. I don't know how or what to say. Once we get back to the school, everyone's getting off the bus and my male teacher gets off his bus as I am slowly walking. There's others around and he sees me coming towards him and he starts quickly searching in his bookbag for something while looking up at me and back into his bag. As I walk past him, I try to look straight ahead as he's staring at me and I try to believe that I was showing him that I didn't care about him anymore and I had power again. Years after I graduated from school, I am getting help, have been for more then a year, and feel I have a long ways to go. Being groomed for several years by two different men who were my teachers at different schools has turned my life upside down but I'm continuing to fight and not giving up hope that one day I won't be as triggered by anything as I am currently. I want to share my story of these two teachers I had because I want it to be aware that you don't have to be given gifts to be groomed. With these two men, it was staring and compliments and making me question my reality about what they were doing to me and trying to isolate me from everyone at school who I cared about, along with the sexual innuendos of the food items and the senior teacher taking off his shirt and tie while being alone with me and once when alone, him leaving me alone in his classroom after class to go get food for his break and me waiting for however long for him to come back in. There was another day he wanted me to go next door to hand him my test when I was done after class and he told me there was a pass on his desk for me. He left me alone in his classroom and I did as he said though when I went to get my pass off his desk I stood there and was really uncomfortable and confused why he let me do that. During senior year, I stopped eating, and my friends being the wonderful people they were tried to get me to eat, even telling another teacher I wasn't and who helped me eat even though at the time I was angry at everyone for trying to help me eat. I still struggle with wanting to eat, getting out of bed, feeling safe being around people and in buildings, feeling like I have control over my life, liking my body, dealing with feelings of not wanting to live, having self harm that I have gotten help with,feeling no one but them cares about me, the two teachers, wanting to go back to them because it would be "easier" to go back to them then deal with the aftermath of all they've put me through, dealing with sexual thoughts and getting help with all this and how to know that I should feel pleasure and happiness during intimacy if I ever find a partner when all I want to do is, if intimate, pleasure my partner because I don't want to be touched or feel any pleasure ever, in fact I'm afraid of touch and pleasure. I have issues with arousal and I just don't want it anymore. I can't hang out with friends because I can't trust them and men I just think if they're nice to me they want me romantically when that's not the case. Romance is disgusting to me. Overall though, with therapy and some support people, it is possible to heal. I'm not fully there yet though I'm on my way. Some days I lose hope though with the help of my support people, cats, planting and watering my flowers, watching them grow, and knowing that the small things I do each day that I achieve help me realize that there is hope. It's hard to do on your own but learning about your triggers and writing them down is very helpful. I dissociate if I have flashbacks or overwhelm myself with too many reminders of my trauma and become unable to speak or move though grounding techniques have helped with that and talking to my therapist. I have nightmares about the the two male teachers and most of the time they're about school and seeing them or missing them because I love them. I would say, if you're afraid to go to therapy that's completely normal. I told myself I was never going to open up to someone and now I can't stop opening up to my therapist. It takes time and you just have to trust that you'll be safe. I also found it helpful to have the same gender therapist as me because I couldn't handle being alone with a male therapist. In the end, I hope that everyone can find some peace and healthy coping and supportive people to help heal the trauma. Everyone here deserves to have a healthy and safe life. My goal is to eventually become a trauma therapist because I want to help others heal from their trauma and be supportive and know someone does care and believe them. I believe everyone deserves to be believed. Thank you.

Inappropriate touching is how I would refer to what my ex-husband would do. We were together for nearly numberyears. There were countless times that I would wake up with his hands down my pyjamas, him having intercourse with me, him forcing me to do things to him, that this just became normal. I felt that this was part of my marriage. I now know that this should not have been the case and no man should ever treat a woman like this. That consent cannot be taken it must be given. We separated and he was still living in the house. I had a hospital admission. He was helping look after our three children. He would come into my bedroom at nighttime after I came home from hospital and rub my back and belly, even though I had asked him not to. This progressed on two occasions to rape, I had said no, he continued to do it. I did not realize at the time that this is what it was. Even writing this now is difficult. It was only three years later after discussing the inappropriate touching with a therapist that she used that word with me. Deep down I knew how fundamentally wrong this all was but never saw myself as having been sexually assaulted or raped by my husband while we were married or just after we had separated. I still find it extremely difficult to say this word out loud. Most of my friends or family do not know this has happened. It is a very lonely place but speaking to professionals certainly helps with the shame and guilt that I hold myself.

So I was uh..you know what. It's not a big deal since my memory of it is all vague and blurry, but oftentimes when my friends and I have physical contact (like hugging,poking or patting eachother head,ect.), I feel a bit apprehensive and hesitant. I'd refuse everytime yet he still wanna beat me to it; it's not like he'd done anything wrong, I just afraid someday that his actions might be different or become more pervasive, I do really sucks at keeping boundaries, right?

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This story is not easy to read but it's harder to live. I am a survivor of narcissistic abuse, sexual assault, and systemic failure. I share this not for pity, but for truth. For every woman who's been silenced, dismissed, or retraumatized by the very systems meant to protect her. I write this to reclaim my voice and to help others find theirs. It took me until my fifties to realize my worth. I’d spent decades carrying the weight of a childhood that stripped me of confidence and self-worth. That was heavily influenced by a nefarious dictator who called himself Dad. The physical abuse was bad enough but he managed to see to it that his children sailed into adulthood without knowing our own value, and no self-esteem whatsoever. I still managed to marry, raise children, and hold good jobs. I’m intelligent, I carry myself well. But until recently, no one knew how little I thought of myself—even me. Then came the man who would nearly destroy me. He was younger, persistent, and now I understand: he was conditioning me for narcissistic abuse. What followed was three years of daily trauma. I ugly-cried every single day. That’s over 1,095 days of emotional devastation. By the end, my energy, my vivaciousness, and my tenacity were barely hanging on. He did the most heinous things. He killed my cat. He threatened my life and my children’s lives. He kept me tethered with fear. He destroyed everything I owned—including my 2009 Tahoe, which I used for work and to care for my kids. He blew it up shortly after he sent me to the ICU, fighting for my life. I had refused to give him the name of the hospital or my doctors. I was there for 18 days. It was touch and go every single day. A chaplain visited me daily. Because it was a very Merry Covid Christmas, my teenage sons weren’t allowed to say goodbye. Looking back, I realize that was a blessing—no one spoke death into my children’s lives. God is good. The infection that nearly killed me, and almost costed me my right leg, came from a sexual assault. I went home on a PICC line, receiving grapefruit-sized balls of antibiotics daily, for 6 weeks. My kids administered them. I had four surgeries in three months and a blood transfusion. Two days after I got home, my truck exploded. I was one of those cars you see on the freeway engulfed in flames. After I got out of the hospital and my truck blew up, I knew I had to fight for justice. I had proof—medical records, pictures, witnesses. I had been choked, stabbed, assaulted, and received death threats in writing and on video. I waited a year to file because I was mentally and physically broken. I had nothing left in me. But when I finally did, I thought someone would help me. I thought the system would protect me. It didn’t. The DA never contacted me. Not once. I had to rely on VINE alerts just to know when he was in court. No one told me anything. A judge denied my protective order and called him “honey” and “baby” in the courtroom. I had a strong legal team from a nonprofit, and even they were shocked. They wanted to move the case to another county, but I was scared. I didn’t want to poke the bear. He was still stalking me. Still watching. I was re-victimized by the very people who were supposed to help me. The police ignored my reports. The advocates mocked me. One even made fun of me for asking about a Christmas meal after I had all my teeth pulled from the damage he caused. I had a minor child at home and no food. And they laughed. The Attorney General’s Victims Compensation Office helped with the hospital bill for my teeth removal, but not with replacing them. They wouldn’t relocate me because we didn’t live together—even though he saw me almost every day. They had help, but not for me. He got six days in the county jail. That’s it. No restitution. No accountability. He still knows where I am. He still stalks me on social media as a way of eminding me that someday he will make good on his threat to come after me when I least expect it. I don’t know where he is. And I live with that fear every single day. After the justice system failed me, I had nowhere to turn but inward. I went through three different women’s centers and maxed out every therapy program they offered. I showed up for every session, I showed up for me, and for my two sons who had seen the whole drama play out—even when I could barely speak through the grief. I wasn’t just healing from physical trauma. I was healing from being ignored, dismissed, and re-victimized by the very institutions that were supposed to protect me. And when the therapy ran out, I didn’t stop. I found free entrepreneurship training through Memorial Assistance Ministries, and I poured myself into it—not because I had a business plan, but because I needed something to remind me I still had value. I enrolled in the Navigator program and just being at a feedback meeting at United Way I was able to tap into some education through some of the country's most prestigious universities. I earned certificates from the University of Maryland, the University of Valencia, and even Harvard. I got my graphic design certification and used it to create empowerment products, journals, and visual storytelling pieces that spoke to the pain I couldn’t always say out loud. I earned 17 certificates through the Texas Advocacy Project, becoming a trauma-informed, lived experience advocate. I did all of this while still healing, still growing and approaching my 60th birthday. Now here I am, still unable to find a job. I have all this knowledge, all this training, and nowhere to apply it. I’m still standing. Still creating. Still trying. But the silence from the world around me is deafening. I didn’t just survive—I transformed. And yet, I’m still waiting for a door to open. I’m going to keep writing. Keep pushing. Keep showing up for my health, even when the systems around me make it feel like survival is a full-time job. I haven’t been able to resolve the dental issues yet, and that alone has impacted my confidence, my comfort, and my ability to fully engage in the world. There’s a very real possibility that I’ll be facing a housing crisis in the coming months. Living on disability isn’t sustainable, and the math doesn’t add up no matter how many ways I try to stretch it. But I’m not giving up. I’ve come too far, learned too much, and built too many bridges to stop now. I’m looking for a miracle—not because I’m helpless, but because I’ve done everything I can on my own. I’m ready for a door to open. Ready for someone to see the value in what I’ve built, in what I know, in who I am. I’m not asking for charity. I’m asking for a chance to turn all this lived experience into impact. Into legacy. Into something that finally feels like justice.

I was so naive for so long and I let a man who was my supposed husband control me. It all happened for a reason yeah sure. Don't let anyone make you do anything you don't feel confident with! EVER! Fear sucks

When I was six( possibly younger) there was this neighbor that often came to our house together with his parents. The adults always stayed in the living room and my siblings, he and I went to another room where we would play this game witch involved running so I would get tired and lay on the bed, he would lay right next to me at and ask things like " Are you tired? I can give you a massage" I would always refuse and be super uncomfortable but he persisted. I also remember laying on his arm and him laying on my shoulder and to this day I can't stand it when someone tries to lay on my shoulder. We would also play this other game involved me and him being together in one bed and him standing on top of me to "protect" me. I hate myself for doing this and allowing it to happen to me continually. I also can't remember saying no exactly so I wonder if it means I enjoyed this games? He was also really good at origami but he didn't like doing it so if I wanted origami I had to kiss him. I can't believe I let him use me like that I feel so ashamed. I know my story isn't as bad as others but it still change me as a person. I hope that one day the world will be free from any type of sexual abuse ❤️

hi. i found out when i was 14 that what happened to me wasn’t okay. i have no idea how to deal with the fact that apparently im a victim of cocsa, so that’s why im here because i have no idea what to do. it started when i was 5, and she was 9. the first time, she asked what kind of princess underwear i was wearing, then asked to see. i showed her and she touched me, then asked if i liked it. i didnt know what i was supposed to like. this went on for some time, and eventually she got my sisters in on it too, they were her age. i didn’t know what it even was but i wanted her to keep hanging out with me alongside them so i didn’t complain. and the sister i shared a room with one night asked if we could “practice” so we could be good for her, then asked me to touch her. she called it her dog house, and i had to help the dog. me and my sister haven’t spoken about that night since it happened, and i cant get it out of my mind. but the girl never stopped with me, one day she came to my house and wanted to sleep over. i was so excited that she asked to sleep in my room with just me, and it got to bedtime, and she asked if i could help her, but i said i didn’t want to so she made me hold her phone that had porn on it, i sat there for however long while she did it, making me watch. i never knew it was wrong or anything, i just loved the idea of her thinking of me. the last time, i was 12. my family took her on our vacation, and she wanted to go back to the condo for whatever, she asked me to come back with her. i was downstairs eating pizza rolls, and she asked me to come upstairs. i walk in the room and her bottoms are off. she asked me to come and sit, and asked if i would help her. i said i didn’t want to, and she just asked me to take my top off and watch. i remember i just sat there staring at myself in the mirror. the whole time. for the first time, i was scared. we then left once she was done, and said nothing. when it was my 14th birthday, i talked abt it, and i was told that it wasn’t okay. 7 years of my life. i didn’t know. and i don’t know how to deal with any of this. any tips or help would be great.

I had been friends with X for a little over a year. One day, we were drinking and smoking marijuana on the roof. My blood pressure dropped or rose, so X took me to lie down on his bed. X started touching my private parts. At some point, I regained "consciousness" (I don't know if it was seconds or minutes), got up, went to the bathroom, and said I needed to go home. The next day, X felt very bad, took a picture from the top of a building saying he wanted to kill himself, that I knew what people would think of him. I said it was okay, after all, as soon as I asked, X stopped. But after that, other sexual things happened, and I felt degraded, and I used any substance to numb the feelings, from marijuana to cocaine. I said the phrase "I don't feel comfortable with this, but it's okay (for you to continue what you're doing)" several times. I wanted X to choose to stop. In a way, I didn't want to compromise myself. I didn't want to be responsible for his death, and I thought I would lose his friendship. After a few weeks, I started rejecting X's advances, although I didn't do it verbally. The advances continued until I gave in again. X mocked me, accusing me of being PMSing. I started talking to some girls online, and eventually one decided we were dating, and although I thought it was too soon, since we had only known each other for two weeks, I kind of went along with it. Obviously, he touched me again, and that made me feel like a traitor, so I ended up telling him he couldn't touch me anymore. He got really upset, said it was unfair because he had met me first. He started to be more gentle, like rubbing my legs and treating me like his girlfriend, but I couldn't take it anymore, so I stopped seeing him and moved to another city. Some things make me think I may have been groomed. 1. He confessed to approaching me because of my self-harm (approaching me through vulnerability). 2. He confessed that he found it funny that at the beginning of our friendship, I didn't like hugging him, but I hugged him anyway (here he demonstrated that he understood my nonverbal cues and crossed the line anyway). 3. Strange things were normalized. For example, he would make me sit on his lap, as if it were something innocent, but if his girlfriend or a family member was nearby, he would push me off his lap. He treated his girlfriend as if she were excessively jealous and his own relatives as stupid and backward. I had never had a male friend, so I based my understanding on my friendships with girls, where sitting on laps was normal and not sexual, so even though I felt there was something strange, I felt "sexist" for thinking that way (yes, today I see how completely distorted my mind was...). 4. He brought me closer to his family and mine. In front of his family, he wouldn't touch me, but he would in front of mine (they thought I was dating him and just wouldn't admit it). Even with the closeness, he recommended lying to my parents, saying he didn't like the person I was with my friends, etc. He made me believe he was the only one who understood me. 5. He tried to kiss me the first time I went to his house (but I let it go because his girlfriend had "cheated" on him - they were on a break, but that's how he saw it...) 6. The situation with his girlfriend was kind of complicated. She was high and according to her, she didn't want to, but the guy had come prepared, so she did it. He said she should know what a guy would want going to a girl's house without her parents home. I think he noticed my look at him, because he quickly explained how that didn't apply to us, because our friendship was different, special. Well, could this be considered grooming? If not, would it still be, in some way, sexual abuse?